


The Thought of You is Consuming Me

by IvanW



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, Historical, M/M, Pinto de Mayo 2019, Regency, Romance, Wordplay as foreplay, happily ever after for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-26 01:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18713989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvanW/pseuds/IvanW
Summary: Zachary, Viscount Quinton, and Lord Christopher, two upcoming young lords in University and their first London season, begin a secret, forbidden love affair.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time…he kissed me.

We had been given a room to share at University and prior to his moving in, I didn’t know Lord Christopher Pine. He was the second son of Robert Pine, Earl Whitelaw. I was already Lord Zachary, Viscount Quinton.

He seemed shy at first, but our close contact in living quarters soon did away with that. He was a year behind me and had come to rely on me to help him with his studies, which I found I did not mind. He was brilliant, really, but lacked some initial confidence. But it was definitely growing.

We were lounging on my bed, simply because it was a bit larger, going over an assignment he had that he wanted me to review. I leaned sort of into him to look over his shoulder. We had both discarded our coats and waistcoats, leaving us only in our shirts and trousers. I had insisted we remove our boots while on the bed. We had even loosened our cravats.

Lord Christopher was an exceptionally good looking young man with the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. I was not supposed to notice, of course, for that just was not done. But I could not help it. I often found myself lying in bed at night thinking of him.  I’d had these urges with regard to males since I reached the age of ten and three, but I tried to push them aside. Such proclivities ought to be denied or face the cruel wrath of society. Or so I had been taught. And no one, in particular me, wanted to be put to death due to such…urges.

And yet as I lay in bed with him breathing in the bed beside me, I could not turn my thoughts away from the sinful path they liked to take when thinking of him.

Though there were times when the smiles he sent my way had my stomach fluttering, I never had the slightest inkling that he in any way shared my struggles.

Until that day.

I’d been about to point something out with my finger, when I suddenly realized his blue gaze was very much focused on my face instead of his assignment. I switched my gaze to his in puzzlement when he suddenly leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

It was not a skilled kiss. Not that I particularly knew what a skilled kiss was. I had no such experience. But his kiss, Chris, as he had bade me to call him, was rather fast and sloppy, almost missing my mouth entirely. And then he reddened to such a deep shade that I was afraid he might have a fit of apoplexy. 

He looked quickly away and then scrambled off the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I don’t know why I did that.”

As I watched, rather dumbfounded, he hurriedly retied his cravat, pulled on his boots, and then grabbed his coat and waistcoat as he headed for the door. “I have to be somewhere,” he called over his shoulder and was gone.

I was the one who initiated the second kiss between us.

More than a week had passed since the kiss he had stolen from me. We both pretended it had never happened, but inside, I replayed it over and over. My analyzation led me to believe that he would not have initiated the kiss if there was not some sense of attraction there.

But he had also been mortified. Whether at his own action or my lack of the reaction he had hoped for, I could not say.

I only knew there was but one way to find out.

I came into our shared room to see that he stood by the window, looking out over the university grounds. I locked the door behind me, as I always did, and for a moment just took in his appearance. He wore fawn colored breeches matched with dark brown boots, a chestnut colored waistcoat and a brown coat. Both his shirt and his cravat were a creamy off-white. His sandy colored hair was just long enough that the ends rested on his shirt.

He was…magnificent.

And I realized as I approached him that I was painfully aroused by the sight of him.

He did not turn around as I neared, but I saw the stiffening in his shoulders. He had tried not to be awkward around me, but the air around us had changed since his brief kiss.

I hoped to change it again.

It was possible, of course, that he would react badly. Perhaps even use the skills he’d learned from boxing upon me.

But I did not believe he would.

I placed my hand tentatively on his shoulder. “Chris?”

He turned slightly toward me, his blue eyes searching my face. Questioning.

I moved closer, then reached over to pull the curtains across the window. One could never be too careful. And put my hand to his jaw to draw his face toward mine.

Hesitating only a moment to allow him to move away from me should he wish to do so, I leaned into him until our mouths were less than an inch from each other. I could feel his breath against my skin, scent a hint of mint from him, and still I waited, wishing him to understand very well what my intention was.

He did not move.

I pressed forward, turning my head so our noses would not smoosh, and placed my lips over his. I made it brief, just a touch. But I did not move away. When he did not attempt escape, I touched my mouth to his again, firmer this time. His breath hitched and his lips softened under mine. I released his jaw and moved my hand down to his waist, drawing him closer to me.

His hands came up then to grip my biceps and for a moment I feared it was to push me away, but instead, he drew me closer, his fingers flexing on my muscles through my coat. I closed my eyes and kissed him again, softer perhaps, but with no less intent. His lips parted and I boldly thrust my tongue past them. I had never kissed, not like this, but I had spied others as a youth acting in this manner, and I had been eager to try it out. With him.

The touch of his tongue on mine pulled a moan from me I could not suppress. It was exquisite. He was exquisite. I moved my hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, holding him there as I kissed him, over and over. His cheeks were flushed pink and I suspected mine might be too.

There was a rumbling in his chest, and I broke apart from him to breathe, “Chris—?”

But he grabbed me and returned his lips to mine. Already his kisses were becoming more sure, more addicting. I slanted my mouth over his, my tongue once more seeking entry into the moist heat inside.

There was a noise just outside our door that had our lips breaking apart. But I did not move away from him. Instead I rested my forehead on his. His heart was beating fast as was mine. He still held my biceps tightly, as though he were afraid to let go.

That night he slept in my bed, beside me. We did nothing that first night but kiss for hours before either of us was tired enough to sleep. No words were spoken between us except the gasp of our names, but there was no doubt that something significant had changed between us. And as I drank from his lips for hours as we lay in bed together, I knew there would be more.


	2. Chapter 2

The next night it had been arranged with friends of mine to go to a gentlemen’s club known as White’s. There one could enjoy elegant dinners, card games, billiards, or simply read the news by the fire with a cigar or a pipe. It was a place where men sipped port and talked politics and women they were interested in.

I invited Chris along, not only for the experience, but because I didn’t really wanted to spend the evening without him, in the hopes, later, when returned to our room, more exploration could be had.

It was raining when we left our suite of rooms and we caught a hackney for the two block ride it would take us to get to White’s.  As we sat side by side in the carriage, I noticed his cheeks were pinked and his blue eyes sparkled. He wore a deep midnight blue ensemble tonight that brought out the intense color of his eyes and complemented his fair coloring. 

“Enjoying the evening so far?” I asked with a smile.

There were many carriages on the road tonight and because of that it would take our hackney longer to reach White’s than normal. But I enjoyed Chris’ company so much the delay mattered little.

“Yes,” he replied. “I haven’t yet been to White’s. My father has talked about it though. And Kate’s husband goes.”

Lady Katherine was his elder sister and judging by the number of times he spoke of her, they were close.

“You will like it. It’s very sophisticated but relaxed.”

“If you like it, I have no doubt I will too.”

I had started to regret making plans to meet others there, for I had the desire to spend more private time with him, and yet it wouldn’t do to exclude the everyday social activities I had become accustomed to.

Finally the carriage stopped before the entrance. As we departed the hackney, a servant waited with an umbrella to escort us undercover.  

Once inside another servant took our overcoats and hats, and moved off to see to them.

Chris smiled widely, his gaze taking in these hallowed walls with fresh, young eyes.

“Come, Pine, let us see about some supper.”

We got seated in the dark wood, exclusive dining room at a table for two and dined on slices of rare roast beef, stewed root vegetables, and crusty bread. Along with glasses of wine which made Chris’ cheeks pinker. For desert we had a bread pudding covered in gooey caramel sauce.

It was just as we were finishing up when my three friends came bustling into the dining room in pursuit of me. I could tell they had been drinking prior to arriving at White’s.

“There you are, old man,” said Lucas Shaw. He was third son of an earl and I had known since we were in short pants. He draped himself across my shoulders. “Got any left?”

I flicked him off. “No and do stop invading me. Shaw, this is my friend from University, Lord Christopher, son of Earl Whitelaw. Lord Christopher, this is Lord Lucas Shaw, son of Earl Bilton.”

Shaw stared at Chris. “Whitelaw. Mm. Yes, I have heard of the family. And your father, I daresay. A pleasure.”

“And mine as well,” Chris murmured.

Shaw gestured to the two men accompanying him. “And these are Cranston and Harcourt. Dear friends of mine.”

They both acknowledged Chris and he them, though somewhat stiffly.

“How about we hit the billiard room,” Shaw suggested. “That is if you’re through eating.”

I scooted back in my chair and stood. “We are. Let’s go.”

“Are you a fair player, Lord Christopher?” Shaw asked.

“Chris, is all right. And to be honest, no. I’ve never played.”

Cranston made a shocked sound. “Never played billiards? How  _is_  that possible?”

I felt the need to defend him, so I said, “There’s lots who haven’t played. Be quiet and put your money where your mouth is.”

There were four tables in the room and two of them were already occupied by gentlemen playing. We took the far left one.

“A wager, is it? You’re on, Quinton.”

Chris gave me a small smile but lingered on the sidelines and let the four of us play. I didn’t wish to exclude him, but he kept assuring me he wasn’t really interested in playing. I did notice he watched Shaw most of all and I found myself feeling a bit jealous of his attention to my friend.

I admitted Shaw was a good looking man, tall and broad-shouldered, with blond hair styled similar to Chris’ own, but he was a little too polished for my particular tastes and even though I had often suspected Shaw dabbled in a variety of sexual appetites, that had never been my personal experience with him. I certainly didn’t want it to be Chris’ experience with him either.

For the most part, Chris quietly sipped port and watched us play, and though I tried numerous times to cut things short, we didn’t end up departing White’s until after one in the morning.

The rain had stopped, temporarily I was sure, but replaced instead by thick, damp fog as we made our way into another hackney to take us home.

Chris sat first, so I made sure to sit next to him again, instead of across. He looked out the window, remaining quiet, which made me a little anxious for some reason.

But I took a big chance, I suppose, and put my hand on his knee. He didn’t shift away. In fact after several fraught heartbeats, he turned his head to look at me.

“You…how close are you to Shaw?” he asked.

And I finally realized. Chris had not been remotely interested in my friend, he had been worried that I saw something more in Shaw then I did. Perhaps he even feared that I had been intimate with my friend.

“Friends only,” I said quickly.

“Friends like you and me or—”

“The usual sort of friend, Chris. Not like us.” Or obviously what I hoped we were to become.

He blew out a long breath, his lips curving into a small smile. “I am relieved then.”

“You thought him and me—”

His brows furrowed. “He was most flirtatious.”

I didn’t see it, but I supposed that Chris would, if he had been jealous. And that should not thrill me, truly, but it did.

“I am only interested in you,” I said, bluntly. I pointedly looked at my hand on his knee.

“I wish that you would kiss me,” he whispered.

“I wish that too, more than words can convey, and I will, when we are safely behind locked doors.”

He nodded then, his face once more turning, and gazing out the window. It was a very long carriage ride. 


	3. Chapter 3

We remained silent from the carriage into the University main rooms and down the hallways to our particular shared rooms. It was late, of course, and that was a consideration, but also our silence seemed heavy with mutual desire.

Perhaps that was only me.

I opened our door with my key and Chris preceded me inside. I closed and locked the door, lighting the lamps on the wall, even as he crossed the floor to the open windows and pulled the drapes over them.

Chris turned to face me then, his blue eyes in the shadows, his lips were parted, seemingly in invitation. I shrugged out of my coat and undid my waistcoat, tossing them haphazardly onto the nearest chair.

I stopped in front of him, my hand shaking as it rose toward his pale cheek.

“You are extraordinary.”

“Then perhaps you ought to do something about it.”

I placed my hands his shoulders and began to slip his midnight blue coat down his arms. I left it dangling at his elbows, and moved a hand to undo the cravat at his throat.

“Have you—”

I shook my head. “No, never. Not with anyone.”

“Nor have I.”

I let the untied cravat fall from my fingers to the floor and I slid my fingers into the opening of his cream-colored shirt. I wondered exactly how far we wanted to take it, how far we could before both of us would experience a heady release. As I pushed closer to him, I felt the hard ridge of his arousal through his trousers which matched the erection trapped within mine.

“Zachary,” his whisper was throaty, hoarse, a plea that seemed to go straight to my aching cock.

Now I slid his coat off the rest of the way and made short work of the tiny buttons that fastened his waistcoat. They dropped to the floor with his cravat.

I took his hand then and led him toward my bed.

He turned to me when we stood next to it and got rid of the cravat around my own throat. We had to sit on the bed to pull off our boots, and then, when all that had been seen to, I pushed him onto the bed and draped myself over him.

“I want you, Christopher.”

His eyes looked like sparkling gems as he stared up at me. “I want you too.”

“How far do you wish to go this night?” I had to know for I wouldn’t frighten him or make him uncomfortable for anything.

“However far you are prepared to go,” came his response.

I leaned back to remove first his shirt and then my own, then pressed our naked chests together. My lips found his, wet from his tongue tracing across them, but I didn’t care. They tasted of port and caramel sauce.

His fingertips grazed against my jaw, holding my chin as he increased the pressure of our mouths as they slid together over and over.

I reached my hand down between our bodies and closed it over that hard ridge, earning a gasp, a moan of delight from him.

“You like that, angel?”

He laughed then. “Hardly an angel.”

“You are my angel,” I insisted. “You are like an angel from one of those ancient medieval paintings.”

“Our trousers, Zachary,” he urged.

I lifted off him and off the bed, yanking off my trousers and my underdrawers. Then, as I became aware he was doing the same, I went to a cabinet where I stored some personal belongings and retrieved a small bottle of oil.

He looked at me quizzically as he lay back on the bed.

“It comes in handy for private activities.” I knew I was blushing and could not help it.

Chris smiled at me and held out a hand. “Come back here.”

I knelt on the bed, next to him, leaning down to capture his lips briefly before pulling back to take in the sight of his completely nude body.

“You truly are like a painting of an angel.”

He smiled gently at me, as his own gaze raked over my body. I felt a little shy, no one had seen me this way before, but the look of desire and affection never dimmed from his eyes.

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

I lay across him once more, fusing our lips together, wondering how I could be so lucky as to have this, have him. And with no one the wiser, as it must stay.

I felt a tentative squeeze to the head of my cock, and it pulled a long, low moan from me.

“God, Chris.”

“That feels good, yes?”

“Incredible.”

He continued to stroke my length then as I returned to kissing him.

I’d once seen etchings of the sort of thing I intended to do to him. If we could both last, which at this point, was definitely not a given. I wanted him so much.

“Chris, please cease your administrations.”

“What?”

“Stop,” I pleaded.

He blinked up at me. “But why?”

“I am close to end this if you do not.”

Chris smiled then. “Oh.” His lips were wet and swollen from my kisses. “It’s all right if you do. I mean, surely this is not going to be our only time.”

I shook my head. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Then…Zachary, I am not stopping.”

He stroked my length anew, with such renewed vigor, I did not think I could last more than five minutes. But turnabout was fair play, so I curled my fingers around his erection.

“Oh, lord.”

I grinned triumphantly and kissed the dreamy look right off his face to replace it with one of ecstasy.

With my free hand I captured his, interdigitating our fingers as I kissed him with all the pent up passion building within me.

As he stroked me and I stroked him, our cocks brushed and slid against each other adding delicious friction, delicious feeling.

“Zach,” he groaned against my lips and I knew, just I was, he was very close to release.

And then it happened, almost in sync, cum shot from my cockhead just moments before Chris’ released, splattering across our bare skin, mixing, mingling, just as our breaths did, hot and moist as we panted together.

I didn’t rise immediately, and neither did he. We lie on the bed together, holding each other, staring at the ceiling, and wondering when we would be ready for more.


	4. Chapter 4

Lingering in bed together was not an option. At least not at University in London. But that’s exactly what I yearned to do with Chris.

It had somehow quickly become a routine with us that we spent many an evening at White’s, having private suppers, and then moving on to chumming around with friends. Our evenings often turned to Whist instead of billiards, and Chris ended up being quite skilled at that card game. It got to the point where my friends became more and more eager to spend time with the golden presence of Chris and I could hardly blame him. He was beautiful and incredibly charming.

At night we continued the explorations of our mouths and cocks, though we had not moved any further from that. I wanted to, but this was something new for both of us, and though we had the oil required, I hesitated to put it to use. At least where others were around, even with locked doors.

I began to get it into my head that when the University break came, I would return to my family’s country estate, and if all went well, according to plan, I would have Chris with me.

Most of the other members of my family preferred London, even when the social scene was not in full play, and often when I did go to our country estate, it was alone. Just me and a few servants. I was certain I would have no trouble arranging to have the estate to myself. It was convincing Chris to accompany me.

There, if I could have it, I would, perhaps, have Chris spending lazy days in bed beside me without prying eyes and nosey ears to deal with.

I had to broach the subject with Chris. It was likely his own family would wish him to go with them to their estate for the summer, but I could not have that.

One night, nearly two weeks into the development of our sexual relationship, Chris’ father, Earl Whitelaw, requested that he attend one of the various balls for that evening that were arranged for young ladies to meet young lords, and, therefore, potential husbands. Chris couldn’t say no, he explained to me, so rather than our usual preferred journey to White’s, I went with him to Lady Haverly’s fete.

I had no intention of leaving him to all the pawing young ladies who would no doubt seek Chris to use him to compromise themselves and then force him into marriage. Not yet, ladies. For now he would remain mine.

“You’re glaring.”

I raised both brows at him. “I’m not. I am simply surveying the crowd. There are far more attendees tonight than I had anticipated.”

“Which is why my father wanted my attendance. Everyone who is anyone attends Lady Haverly’s balls.”

“Hmm. We’ll both be forced to do some dancing. Must keep up appearances.”

He smiled. “Yes. And we must put in a goodly amount of time, as well.”

I scowled. “And how long is a goodly amount, Christopher?”

“Four or so hours, Zachary.” He looked amused at my expense. Or perhaps ours. I couldn’t tell.

I kept my dramatic sigh low, for only his ears. “I want you under me later. For all the torture you are putting me through now.”

His eyes widened, the dark pupils dilating to hide more of the blue. “Do behave, Quinton.”

I knew I was treading dangerously when he dropped to using my title when we were alone.

“Fine. I shall go and mingle for now,” I declared. “I will see you in a bit. Try not to get yourself in trouble.”

“I endeavor not to. Always.”

He drifted away and my gaze lingered on the broadness of his shoulders in the tailored black evening coat he wore. I dared not let my mouth water at the sight, and instead, turned to walk toward a group of familiar ladies, my own mother, not surprisingly, amongst them.

“Zachary, this is a surprise,” his mother, Lady Margaret, said as he bowed to kiss her cheek.

“Ah, but it is Lady Haverly’s.”

“You’ve never cared one whit for that. Was that young Lord Christopher Pine I saw you with?”

“Yes, we attend University together.”

His mother smiled and turned to another lady, one of her age. “Let me introduce you to my son. And then you simply must dance with Miss Courtland.”

And so it begins, I thought. A dreadful night of dancing and laughing at some foolish miss’s clever comment or story.

****

“When the season is over at the end of June, I’m going to my estate in Cheshire.”

Chris paused in the removal of his coat. We had just staggered into our rooms, at nearly three in the morning, after being at the Haverly Fete.

“That’s in only a few short weeks.”

“Yes.” I walked over to him, and slid the coat off his shoulders the rest of the way. I was careful to place it on a chair, neat and tidy. I then turned to the removal of his cravat and snowy white shirt. “I want you to come with me.”

He frowned slightly. “To Cheshire?”

“To my estate, yes. For the summer.” I paused and quirked my mouth at him. “It’s very private.”

His nostrils flared. “Oh. Oh, I see.”

“I see. Is that all you have to say?”

“What I have to say now, Zachary, is finish removing my clothes so that we can get to yours.”

Not an answer but not a refusal either. I would work on him.

When all our clothing was removed, we lay naked beside each other, facing in the candlelit room as I leaned in to capture his lips with mine.

“I saw you dancing with Miss Courtland,” he blurted out between heady kisses.

“Yes, orchestrated by my mother.”

Chris lowered his gaze for a moment and then when I mouthed his jaw, he moaned.

“There is no comparison between you and Miss Courtland,” I assured him. “Come with me to Cheshire.”

He gasped into my mouth then, as my tongue flicked against his. Desire pooled deep in my stomach. I wanted him to be full mine in all unsavory ways. I cared not for what anyone would say.

“I will need to speak with my father.”

“Understandable. But I believe he will agree.”

“Yes, as do I.”

I turned him so that he was under me, blue eyes almost glowing as he gazed up at me.

“And then I will have you completely.”

He shook his head, smiling at me. “You can have that now, if you want it. Want me. There is no requirement to wait.”

“I want you to be able to yell all you want when I take you,” I said. I curled my fingers around the shaft of his hardening penis. “That first time. Legs bent at the knee and wrapped around my waist as I drive into you over and over.”

“Zach,” he moaned.

“Yes, like that. Only louder. So loud. It will be just you and me, Chris. I’ll send the servants away at night. They’ll not come back until afternoon. We can lie abed for as long as we dare. Engaging in whatever we wish.”

“What an incredible summer,” he breathed, clutching at my shoulders as I continued to work his cock with my hand.

“Yes, indeed. Come for me, Christopher. Show me how good it feels to be mine.”


	5. Chapter 5

The end of the season arrived, and after more nagging of Christopher than I’d really wanted to do, he finally agreed to come with me to the country estate.

“It wasn’t easy to convince my father,” Chris told me. “But my mother persuaded him that the experience might be good for me.”

“Oh, it’ll be good for you,” I’d leered.

After too many balls and fetes to finish off the season, I finally got the family carriage for the journey. It was take a good six hours carriage ride, and we’d have to stop to care for the horses along the way, or the groomsmen would anyway.

Since we’d gotten a late morning departure, I’d wanted to leave just after sunrise, but Chris had predictably balked at that, so thus, we’d now not get the estate until evening. As it was, he’d dosed in the carriage for the first three hours, only waking when it was time to water the horses and take a break. 

The place we stopped had an inn with a small pub, so the two of us went inside for a quick lunch while the groomsmen tended to the horses.

“I’m sorry I slept all this way,” Chris said to me. “It must have been boring for you.”

I waved that away. “I’ve made the trip dozens of times. It’s not particularly exciting scenery.”

We ended up sharing a kidney pie as well as both of us having a mug of ale before continuing on. It seemed it was my turn to nap for I woke up with my head lying against his shoulder as the carriage came to a stop.

I blinked awake and he smiled at me.

“All right?”

“A little groggy.” I straightened and wiped a hand over my face. “We’re there?”

“Presumably.”

Just then there a light tap on the carriage door.

“Yes.”

The carriage doors were opened, and a groom stood there. “We’ve arrived, my lord.”

“Thank you, Huggins. Please see that our bags are brought inside and delivered to our rooms.”

“Yes, my lord.”

I had sent word ahead a few days earlier of the day of our arrival, so we were greeted by the butler, housekeeper and cook. We were served a small meal of cold roast beef, cheese, and bread, before we retired to the drawing room for glasses of port.

“Tomorrow we can go riding if you like,” I said, sipping my port as I stretched out on the settee.

“Sounds like it might be nice,” he agreed with a soft, ready smile.

He looked good like this. Coat removed, cravat undone, sandy blond hair in disarray, with just a hint of shadow oh his jaw.

“What?” Chris asked, his smile turning sardonic.

“You just look really good like this.”

“Like?”

“Relaxed. As though you haven’t got a care in the world.”

“At the moment, I don’t. I’m done with University until Autumn, no balls to pretend an interest in some money grasping miss, and the summer ahead of me with my most favorite person in the world by my side. What could be bad?”

My lips twitched. “What indeed? And I must agree with your entire statement for I feel the same. Endless days and nights of doing only what we want to do. It sounds like heaven to me.”

“Yes, and in the Autumn, it will all start again, and your mother will grow still more insistent you find yourself a wife.”

“Perhaps, but that is far off now, and something we need not think about now.” I finished my port and stood. “It’s been a long day of traveling, Lord Christopher, perhaps you’d like to retire.”

He finished his glass too and stood, a smile touching his lips. “Yes, perhaps.”

I bade the servants goodnight and we made our way upstairs to our rooms. I’d had Chris set up in the suite of rooms beside mine. They’d be intended for my future wife, with an inner door, for easier access between them, but for now they would be perfect for our purposes.  

I left him alone in his suite, for now, so as not to be too intrusive, and headed for mine to prepare for bed. I’d asked the servants earlier to set up a bath for me, and it stood ready, in my room, steam still coming from the heated water. I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the bathtub, leaning my head back, closing my eyes.

Then fingers ghosted across my forehead, and with a smile, I opened my eyes. Chris smiled back at me.  “Is there room for me?”

I scooted over. “Absolutely.”

He shrugged out of his clothes, posthaste, and as I moved my legs out of the way, tucking my knees close to my body to give him room to sit across from me in the oversized tub. As he swung  a leg over, I couldn’t help but ogle his golden skin, and perfect cock and balls, just before he slipped under the water.  

“Feels glorious,” he moaned, sounding quite hedonistic and delicious.

I tossed him the bar of soap. “Be sure to clean everything well.”

His blue eyes widened behind those gorgeous lashes. “Everything, is it?”

“Everything you want my tongue on, anyway.”

Chris choked on a laugh and blushed. “You’re so bold, Zachary.”

“I’m not the one who came into share _your_ bath, Christopher.”

“Touché.” His eyes met mine as he grasped the soap. “I want your tongue everywhere, my lord.”

I took his hand and leaned forward to nibble on the fingertips. ”Hurry then before the water gets too cold." 


	6. Chapter 6

After our bath, Christopher disappeared into his rooms for a moment, and I pulled on a dressing gown, tying it around my waist, as I got the bedroom ready. I had decided to forgo a valet for our trip to the summer estate, preferring more privacy, with the smaller number of servants.

I pulled back the sheets and comforter from the bed and arranged the plethora of pillows that had been placed there.

Then I went to the wardrobe in my bedchamber, where the contents of the bags I’d brought with me, had been arranged by a helpful servant after our arrival. It was there I found the vials of oils I’d brought, in a drawer. I chose a musk scented one and set it upon the bedside table to await the arrival of my lover.

As often happened this time of year, at least on my estate, the winds had picked up, and the trees battered against the windows. There might be a storm later, it rained often in this part of England, no matter the time of year.

But we’d be safely inside, tucked away in my bed, at least for as long as we dared. I had informed the housekeeper, butler, and cook no to expect us before noon, and that they could have the morning off from their duties.

I turned from the window when I heard his footsteps approach. He stood in the doorway between our rooms, dressed in a dressing gown of his own, tugging rather nervously on the collar of it.

“Are you anxious, love?” I asked, not knowing whether to go to him and draw him fully into the room, or whether I should let him come to me, of his own will.

“No, not really.” Chris sighed, leaning against the door, and making no move to come farther into the room. “This is a really big step though.”

“We’ve already shared intimacies.”

“We have, yes. But not…this completeness. And not on our own on some quiet estate for the whole summer.” His mouth softened into a smile. “I’ve never…I just never thought I’d get to have anything close to this, Zachary. Men with my preferences—”

“ _Our_ preferences.”

“Our preferences,” Chris acknowledged softly. “It’s not that I don’t like ladies. I do, however,-- ”

“You have an appetite for men, also.”

He laughed then. “An appetite. An interesting way to phrase it.” Chris straightened away from the doorway then and came forward. “I think, perhaps, I have an appetite for you, most of all.”

Mirth bubbled up inside me. He was a delight and the simple fact I got to have him, thrilled me.

“I understand being a little anxious—”

“I’m not.”

“Apprehensive then,” I said. “I never imagine someone who looks like you—”

“Looks like me?”

“Could ever want someone like me.”

“You must be jesting. There’s a reason that tall, dark, and handsome came to be the preferred thing.” He was directly in front of me now, those blue blues so icy hot they would melt the coldest heart. His hand came up to my jaw. “You steal my breath, Viscount Quinton.”

I closed my eyes, leaning into his test. “I would steal your breath, your heart, you body, all that you have to give me, everything.”

He leaned in, hot breath ghosting over my skin, as he kissed me.

“Show me what it is to be decadent,” he whispered into my ear, causing my flesh to goose up.

He grabbed my hands and pulled me toward the bed, we had not far to go. He undid the tie at my waist and slipped the dressing gown from my shoulders.

I wasn’t used to forcefulness from him, so I was startled to find myself on lying on my back, amongst the soft sheets and pillows. He tossed his own dressing gown to the floor, and as he crawled onto the bed, I saw the determination in his gaze just before he placed his head between my legs.

“Chris?”

His cool fingers touched my thighs, which quivered, somewhat to my embarrassment. I couldn’t believe he was suddenly being so bold, but I certainly could not protest.

“Prop the pillows up behind your head and back so you can watch,” he suggested, wickedly, I thought.

But I scrambled to do so, sitting up quickly, sending one to the floor in my haste.

Chris gave me a look, then leaned off the bed to retrieve the pillow, which I placed behind my back.

“I want you watch me as I suck your cock.”

I dug my fingers into the sheets beside me, my gaze riveted as he once more positioned his head between my legs. He licked his lips, just before opening his mouth wide over the tip of my shaft. The candlelight flickered from the nearby lamp, painting him in shadows and the glow of the flame.

He went agonizingly slow, on purpose I was certain, though when my beloved Chris had become a tease, I didn’t know, but as soon as his hot mouth closed over me, I yelped.

“Damn, damn, damn,” I groaned out.

He pulled back to raise his brows at me. “Is there a problem, my lord?”

“Yes, you’re not still sucking me.”

He laughed then, and it was breathless and charming, just as he always seemed to be, and he drew the tip of my cock into his mouth once more.

I’d never felt a mouth there before, though of course, I had imagined it, fantasized. At first those fantasies had involved anonymous, nondescript mouths, but once I met Chris, even before our experimentation with each other had begun, he had begun to take on the face, the mouth, the body of my fantasies.

Little by little more of my throbbing, hard shaft disappeared between his lips. He was disheveled and despoiled, his lips glistening with drops of my pre-cum as well as his own saliva.  

My imaginings did little justice to how it actually felt. Tight, sucking heat surrounding my shaft. My balls dangled heavily at the base and as though he read my mind, one of his hands moved there, fingers rolling my balls, as my cock slipped further still inside.

Chris pulled back a little then, choking. He let my shaft drop out of his mouth, as he gasped in several gulps of air. He laughed then, like a giggle. “It takes some getting used to.”

I nodded. “Cease. I wish to worship you in another way for the moment.”

“Are you sure? I can—”

“Chris. Lie down on your stomach, face in the pillows.”

He nodded, biting his lip. “Are you going to—?”

I smirked. “Eventually. Yes. I cannot wait to fully make you mine, writhing beneath me. But first, as I promised, in the bath, there is something else I would do.”

Chris lay on the bed, rounded ass cheeks prominently displayed for my hungry gaze. My cock lay between my legs, hot, heavy and aching to be relieved. But that would have to wait.

It was my turn to place my head between his legs, and between his cheeks, as I grasped the cheeks, parted them, and darted my tongue into the puckered hole there.

Chris moaned. “Zach, oh God, Zach.”

I laved his opening, darting my tongue all around the outer edge and then inside, over and over, until he was a shaking, quivering mess. He clutched desperately at the sheets and pillows, his cries barely muffled against the pillowy down.

When we’d both had more than we could surely endure without coming, I lifted up and away and reached for the vial of musk oil.

“Zach?”

“Shh, love, it is all right. I will take care of you,” I promised, even as I poured out a generous amount of the scented oil. I coated my erection thoroughly, before turning to him, fingers dipped in the slippery oil, and then in his channel to prepare him for my intrusion.

“Ahh.”

“Does it hurt?” I asked, gently, pushing my fingers in deeper.

“Stings and burns mostly. And feels like a strange pressure.” Then he leaned up and cried out loudly. “Oh. Oh, Zach.”

“Is that good, angel?”

“Yesss, yes, please.”

I pushed my fingers against the same spot and he went crazy.

“Zach, Zach, I can’t. It’s too-too much.”

“Shh, it’s okay, love.” I withdrew my fingers and pulled myself up on my knees behind him. “Are you ready to take me?”

He nodded but said nothing.

“Christopher, I need to hear the words. Are you ready to take me?”

“Yes. Yes, please.”

I held his cheeks apart and slowly pushed past the ring of muscle at his entrance. At first he closed off, stiffening up beneath me.

“Relax, Chris. Let me in,” I urged.

My cock made headway and I was able to insert a couple of inches inside him.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Yes, please. Just…please. More.”

I didn’t want to hurt him, or even make anything uncomfortable for him, so I still thrust in slow, enjoying the way his muscles squeezed my shaft as I scooted in. Beads of sweat had formed on my brow by the time I was fully seated inside him.

“God, you’re just…you’re heaven, Chris.”

I pulled back to thrust back, both of us groaning in unison. After a bit of adjustment, he moved up onto his knees, pushing back against me as I thrust forward, deep and hard into him.

With one hand, Chris held onto the intricate, iron headboard, and with the other, his fingers encircled his own hard cock, jerking it in rhythm to our coupling.

I’d never felt anything so good, so perfect, so meant to be. I had experienced ecstasy before, with this man, but it had not prepared me for the way it felt to fuck him, to move inside him, and around him.

I roared my release, cock twitching as I emptied into him. Only a moment later, he gasped out his own, cum splattering the sheets. As I lay beside him after, holding him against me, as he fell into a deep sleep, I had thoughts that it was a very good thing the serving staff were well paid.


	7. Chapter 7

“I’m not certain when we’ll return,” I told the groom the next afternoon as Christopher and I prepared to ride out with a picnic.

“Do you want someone to accompany you, my lord?” the groom asked.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Lord Christopher and I are able to handle everything. We’ll likely stop in the village later, as well. I anticipate being back well before sundown.”

Cook had packed us a lunch in a large basket which I’d strapped to my stallion, Barnabas. It was good to see him again, as I hadn’t seen him since the prior summer.

“Very good, sir. We’ll look for you prior to sundown, then.”

The Quinton estate lands were quite vast, so we rode for quite some time. The storm from the night before had cleared out to a day filled with sunshine, though a bit brisk. By the time we stopped for our picnic by a stream that ran through the property, we were exhilarated and laughing.

“I haven’t had a ride like that since I was a young boy,” Chris declared as he laid out the blanket for our picnic.

I opened my mouth to make a crass remark about last night’s ride, but closed it, changing my mind. The day, the time, it was just too perfect. Nothing could and should spoil it. 

“I’ve missed riding here,” I admitted instead. “It’s different than riding in London.”

“Do you do much of that?”

“Not as much as I’d like, but with this coming year at my last at University, I hope to do more. During the season, I’ll have my own townhome.”

Chris smiled faintly as he perched himself on the blanket. “I envy you for being so close to being finished. You’ll have your own place? Your mama won’t expect you to maintain a place with her?”

“She has the London home she shared with Father prior to his death. My townhome will be suitable for bachelors, not a dowager.”

He took the hunk of cheese I handed him and munched on it. “And how long do you intend to maintain your bachelorhood?”

“Years, surely. There’s no hurry. I have many years to make that sort of commitment.” I waved that away. “You too if it comes to that. We can be rakes together.”

Chris laughed. “Rakes. I do like the sound of that.” He reclined. “Disheveled, devil-may-care rakehells.”

I chuckled and bit into a peach. “Precisely. There’s many of our peers who don’t bother to choose a wife until well in their thirties. There’s plenty of time.”

Chris sighed and lay on his back, arm supporting his head, as he looked up at the clear blue sky. “I love it here. I wish I could live here forever.”

“And I wish I could make that happen for you,” I said, softly. I lay on the blanket beside him.

He turned his head to look at me. “Should we—”

“Oh no. Not here.”

“But there’s no one around, Zach. Surely.”

“I won’t risk it. Not with you. Never. We can’t take the chance. Even here, Chris.”

He smiled wistfully. “Very well.”

“Why don’t you read me a poem from that poetry book you brought with you?”

He blushed. “How did you know?”

“I know and see all,” I told him, smirking.

Once more, he laughed, getting up from the blanket and going to his horse where he’d tied a small bag. I took a bite of some crusty bread, slathered with butter and jam.

Chris returned to the blanket, this time lying on his stomach, as he opened it, and began to read from Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’.

As he read he held out his hand toward me, and I took it, holding his, for the remainder of our time there.

When we were ready we rode into village, which was also owned by my family. We wandered around the businesses, greeting the people, and Chris even bought some muslin to send to his sister for dresses.

“It is good to see you, my lord,” the proprietor of the local pub, The Canine and The Hound. He led us to seats in a dark corner, with a promise of bringing two ales over. “Perhaps one summer you’ll return with a lady wife.”

I smiled vaguely. “One day.”

As he moved off, Chris studied me. “Does that sort of thing bother you?”

I shrugged. “It’s to be expected. My father has passed and they want the line continued at some point. It is the way of things, whether I like it or not. But, as I said, I’m in no great hurry. I’m content with how life is now.”

He nodded and looked away, his mood definitely deflated.   

I waited until we had our ales before saying, “Christopher.”

“What?”

“You can’t let all that get to you. It’s nothing. We are in charge of our future and no one else.”

“You have to take a wife.”

“And what of it? As I said, not for a long time. And even then, it changes nothing. You and I will always be very close friends.”

“Will we?”

I smiled. “Won’t we? That is definitely my intention. Don’t borrow trouble, Chris.”

He blew out a breath. “All right, yes, you’re right. Sorry. I don’t mean to spoil our day.”

“You have not,” I assured him. “Now drink up. And then we can make our way home.” I clinked tankards with him and his smile returned.

****

After a supper of roasted chicken, we retired to the parlor for a game of whist, and then, later over port, Chris read me more poetry. This time from our contemporary, Lord Byron.

 

_I had a dream, which was not all a dream._

_The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars_

_Did wander darkling in the eternal space,_

_Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth_

_Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;_

_Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,_

_And men forgot their passions in the dread_

_Of this their desolation; and all hearts_

_Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:_

 

“Well,” I said, as he paused, “that’s a depressing choice.”

Chris laughed. “Blame Lord Byron, not Lord Christopher.”

I leaned over and removed his poetry book from the grasp of his fingers and set it aside, on the table beside the settee.

He glanced toward the closed door, a question in his gaze, but I shook my head. “They’ve all gone for the evening, not to return until the morning.”

We kissed then, long and lingeringly. He tasted of chicken and port and though it was a rather odd taste, it was not unpleasant.

“You are far more beautiful than any spoken poem,” I told him, framing his face with my hands. “Dare I say that thoughts of you consume me?”

His breath hitched. “Perhaps it is you who should write poetry, Lord Quinton.”

“They’d all be love sonnets. Ode to Christopher.”

Out the windows another summer storm had come, pelting the glass with rain and wind. The flames of our lamps flickered in his blue eyes, giving them an almost preternatural glow.

“Here?” he murmured, gaze on my lips.

“No, I shan’t want to have to explain cum on the settee,” I said with a laugh as I stood. I reached down and drew him to his feet, and we departed the parlor for the stairs and our rooms on the next level.

That night, as we made love, we did indeed write our own poetry.

****

The summer ended too soon for either of us, our wonderful intimate solitude over for another season. But if I had it my way, we’d come back the following summer, after I completed University, and before I took up my bachelor townhome in London.

I had intentions there, as well, to convince Lord Christopher, once his courses had ended, to take up residence with me, in a suite of rooms of his own in my townhome. Two very close rakehells sharing living space. Was not so unusual to cause unwarranted speculation. We could live there for years together with no one caring. We’d be as close as brothers, to everyone else, but not at all to each other.

On our last night at the country estate, Christopher stood at the window in what had become our bedchamber, privately, anyway, and looked upon the blowing trees. The summer warmth had already departed and the chill in the room was barely heated by the fire in the hearth.

“I’d wager this place would be nothing but charming at Christmastime.”

I came up behind him and encircled his waist with my arms. “You’d be right. Although admittedly the last few I have spent in London as it was troublesome to return here for such a short time.” I kissed his neck. “Would you want to come here then?”

“I’d love to, but I am not certain my parents would want me traipsing off to the country instead of spending Christmas with them.”

“Such a pity. Perhaps another year then.”

He turned in my arms and met my gaze. “We’ll make it happen, one day. Christmas here.”

I smiled and kissed him. “You have my greatest affections.”

He laughed and returned my kiss. “And you have mine. And I can’t wait to come back here next summer.”

“Agreed. But in the meantime, we have another year at University together. Sharing rooms.”

“Sharing everything.”

I drew him toward our bed. “Yes. Sharing everything.”

The End.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given the time period, Regency England, which is a relatively short period, 1811-1820, this is the best happy ending I can give them. I hope that you have enjoyed this work of fanciful Pinto fiction.
> 
> I now return you to your regularly scheduled program.


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